


Not Forgotten

by BosieJan



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Derek's Birthday, Emotionally Constipated Derek, Gen, Post-Canon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-01-02
Updated: 2017-01-02
Packaged: 2018-09-14 02:24:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 897
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9153379
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BosieJan/pseuds/BosieJan
Summary: Derek was a Christmas baby, and Peter would die before he forgot it.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Not really sure what this is, but I woke up Christmas morning alone and hoped that at least Derek had someone to celebrate his birthday with. Was originally a drabble on tumblr, but thought it deserved its own spot here.

What Chris _wasn’t_ expecting on Christmas morning, besides Peter bothering to be awake before noon, was Derek knocking at his door.

Whole and unharmed, Derek looked a little bit lighter than he had when he left Mexico along with Braeden. He didn’t say much, other than mention that he was alone, and Peter seemed to know exactly why Derek was there, of all places. Peter got off the couch and led Derek inside, sitting him down in the warm spot he’d only just vacated himself, then brought Derek a cup of hot, black coffee. Derek took it with some hesitation but sipped from it nonetheless, once Peter relinquished the mug completely.

Pack animals and accustomed to not being alone for any length of time due to their once-large family, Derek had returned to Beacon Hills after all the bullshit had happened between Peter and Scott, and Derek’s newly-realized ability to shift into a full wolf. Things had settled down in the months following, but Chris kept a watchful eye on both wolves as he continued to prepare brunch, adding to the pans so there’d be more than enough for their guest as well.

Chris still didn’t know why Derek had come back at Christmas; it couldn’t be symbolic. Christmas wasn’t a good time to travel, nor was it something sentimental to the aging hunter. His family was dead, and he really only had Peter with which to celebrate.

Peter left Derek drinking his coffee and padded down to the spare bedroom to rummage for a few minutes, giving Chris a small, crooked smile as he passed the kitchen on his way back to the livingroom, a pair of gift bags in his hands. Chris didn’t remember seeing those in the spare room earlier that week, so Peter must have had some inkling of Derek’s arrival, and had prepared for it accordingly.

Peter and Chris had opened some gifts the night before and a few that morning; clothing mostly, plus small sentimental items shared between them, which Chris was pleased to see Peter accepting readily. Peter’s mental state had been shoddy since Chris took him from Eichen House, but he couldn’t stand seeing Peter so abused by the orderlies, and so forgotten by everyone else.

“Merry Christmas, Derek,” Peter said softly, sitting in the chair opposite Derek, the second bag on the floor beside him. “It’s not much, but it’s hopefully something you can use.”

Derek blinked owlishly at Peter and then cast a shy glance toward Chris, who nodded as if in understanding. Chris had no idea what Peter was doing or what he’d bought, so it could be all downhill from there.

Derek opened the bag and took out a pair of key sets, one for the loft and the storage rooms Derek’s things sat in, and the other was Derek’s car keys. Peter had long since locked the loft and SUV up in the parking lot beneath it, assuming that Derek may not be coming back from South America. His return, however, would require that he have a home and a vehicle once again.

“How’d you know I’d be staying?” Derek asked quietly. “I’ve only been here for ten minutes.”

“Call it a hunch.”

Derek seemed to deflate at that, his poise and bravado fading. Peter had always been able to read Derek like a book, and even Peter’s mental issues couldn’t dull that instinct.

“This one’s also for you, but it’s not something being returned to you. This gift is new.”

Peter held out the other bag, the paper in bright colours that weren’t Christmas-y at all. There were party balloons on the side, and Chris suddenly thought that Peter had ran out of Christmas bags, when there were clearly a bunch of them still unused in the spare bedroom closet. 

“Peter, what’s with _that_ bag?” Chris asked suddenly, trying to cut things off before Peter made himself look stupid. “There were tons of Christmas ones around; even the ones we emptied this morning-”

“It’s also my birthday,” Derek stated, a small smile pulling at his lips. “I used to get angry when my birthday gifts came wrapped in Christmas paper.”

Peter smiled at Derek, and let him take the bag. Derek’s face lit up as he opened it, returning to a boy of twelve, rather than a man of thirty. Inside the bag was a new leather jacket, with sleeves that fit this time.

Chris looked surprised while Peter looked smug, and Derek tried it on right there, happy that it fit perfectly. Peter was nothing if not anally-retentive with clothing and their fit, so it wasn’t really a shock to him.

“I’m happy that you’re happy, nephew. Now, stay for brunch. Christopher’s made more than enough for four people, I’m sure.”

Derek looked to Chris and got a nod in confirmation, then sat back down in his jacket, unwilling to take it off just yet. It must have been chilly traveling back from South America without a coat, but Derek had gone down when it was warm outside, and now it was considerably much colder toward the end of the year.

“Thank you.”

Peter nodded, smug in the knowledge that he still controlled Derek somewhat. Chris was simply relieved that the claws hadn’t come out. He’d put up with a lot, but fighting on Christmas morning wasn’t going to fly this year.


End file.
